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SH BAR ISH 



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IsH Bar Ish 



A Song of Love and 
Courage 



WITH 

Other Verses 



N. P. BARLOW, A. B. 

GREENVILLE, MICH. 

19 16 






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Dedication 



To my children with whom I have had a home for ten years 
past, and who have kindly furnished forth the printing, I 
dedicate these lines, hoping they may be a welcome reminder 
of their parents. 

—N. P. B., Greenville, Mich., Aug. 10, 1916 



PREFACE 



So late in life I have selected from my little stock of verses 
such as seem most appropriate. If some should seem unwise 
or out of place it may be laid to the clumsy vanity of an 
old man. 



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Copyrighted 1916 by N. P. Barlow, A. B. 
All Rights Reserved 



NOV 22 1916 



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SERENADE 



N.P. BARLOW 

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LOTTIE E. CRARY 



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I have heard the 
I have heard the 



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whist -ling quail 
night - in - gale 



In the corn, in the corn! 
In the thorn, in the thorn. 




And he sang it all day long, Sang his song, sang his song^ 

And _ he sang it all night long, Sang his song, sang his song; 



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For his mate was in her nest, 
For his mate was in her nest, 



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With her eggs be - neath her breast! 
With her brood be - neath her breast! 



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And 
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he sang it all day long, 
he sang it aU night long, 



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AU daylong, All daylong! 
AU nightlong, All nightlong! 



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Day long! Day long! Long! 
Night long! Night long! Long! 



Ish Bar Ish 

A Song of Love and Courage 



First Evening 

Bar Ish 

Lean forth at thy casement, O most beautiful, 
As the sun at the windows of the morning. 
Mine eyes are entangled in the locks of thy forehead. 
Thou holdest my soul in the palms of thy hands. 
If I behold thee but for a moment I shall return to my toil with 

delight. 
The thought of that vision shall inspire the labors of the day. 

Baf/i Eva 

Pass on, O devotee of a moment. 
Look thou upon the daughters of thy people. 

Bar Ish 

The daughters of my people are comely. 
But their hearts are empty and their words are vanity. 
In their presence I think of only thee. 
But call me not "of a moment", 
For I will not cease till thou speak a word from thy heart. 



Bath Eva 
O most persistent among men, — 
Long hast thou stood by our walls, 
Long hast thou gazed towards my lattice; 
Go, I beseech thee, and leave me 
To my garden and my stitches. 

Bar Is/i 

Year by year thy garden blooms again. 
It's roses are envious of thy color. 
It's lilies hide at the coming of thy feet; 
But thou hast grown weary of it's care, 
For other thoughts are in thy heart. 

Thy stitches have portrayed the deeds of other times,— 
The valor of those who won, the mischance of those who fell. 
Thou hast wondered at their rage, 
Thou hast shuddered at their deeds; 
But in all this thy heart has ceased to be engaged. 

Another Evening 
Serenade 

Ye dews that dash my feet, 

Ye mosses of the ground. 
Ye songs of birds asleep. 

Ye flowers that bloom around; 
Ye waters vast and deep, 

Ye solitudes profound. 
Ye notes of silent night. 

Ye leaves of whispering trees, 
Ye heavens with stars bedight 

And riddles of the breeze; 
O let me sing aright, 

Her timid heart to please. 
Repeat — 



Bath Eva 

How long will your song assail my windows, 
And scare away the slumbers from my pillow? 
Wilt thou persecute me forever? 



Bar Is/i 

I hear thy voice and am elated. 
Would that I might behold thy form 
As I saw thee among thy maidens, 
Walking like the moon among her stars. 
Thy grace was like the gestures of lilies 
When bowed by the breath of the evening. 
My heart went captive with thee to the place of thy abode. 

Not the voice of my song disquiets thy slumbers. 
Thy ears listening for the song and hearing it not, 
Ring again because of the silence; 
And thine own heart wakes thee. 



Bath Eva 

My father's dogs are kenneled in the court, 
I will bid the slaves unleash them, 
Then thou wilt flee. 



Bar Ish 
I will leap to thy window and to safety. 

Window Closed 



Another Evening 

Serenade 

"Window Song" 

window of the fairest of the fair, 

I know my love stands just behind thy frame; 

1 know her rosy fingers touch thy bar, 
I know with love her heart is all aflame. 

O frame of iron, cold, and gray, and strong, 
In vain my fingers touch the tuneful string; 

Thou hast no ears to listen to my song. 
But just within is one who hears me sing. 

O sash of lead, all cold, and dark, and blue, 
Unmoved by music and averse to love; 

Careless of him who standeth in the dew, 
Thou hast no heart to feel, nor pulse to move. 

O bar of brass that holds the hinges fast. 
Warmed with the pressure of her trembling hands, 

Yield to my song the victory at last. 
Open to him who waits, and sings, and stands. 

O panes of crystal, painted o'er with flowers. 
With soft translucence to confuse the light; 

The while 1 wait through all the chilly hours 
Ye keep your vigil and deny my sight. 



And there again ? 



Bath Eva 



Bar hh 



And shall be. 
I shall walk among the trees of the grove of thy father. 



The wings of my song shall throb at the bars of thy window. 

I shall stand in the dews of the night, 

The mists of the midnight shall drench my garments. 

The stars above thee shall see me in my place, 

To gaze towards the place of thy rest 

Is better than to rest mine eyes in slumber, 

Bath Eva (Derisively) 

How long? 

Bar hh 

Thy derision is sweeter to me than the praise of a multitude, 
For it brings thy voice to my ears. 
How long? 

Till my garments are rent with brambles. 
Till my feet are pierced with thorns. 
Till my hands are weak with years, 
And mine eyes are dim with age. 
Till my voice can no longer penetrate thy walls 
To startle the silence from thine ears. 

Bath Eva 

"Till" I shall be taken by one of the nobles. 
And my children stand among the princes. 

Bar Ish 

Till thy parents are gathered to their fathers. 
Till thy admirers leave thee to thy wrinkles and thy tears. 
My heart shall be faithful as the faithful stars. 

Bath Eva 
Did an owl speak? Did a raven foredoom me? 

Window Closed 



Another Evening 
Serenade 

"Pillow Song" 

I sing my song but not to wake thee, 

O my love, my dove, 
I sing my song that I may make thee 
Sink more deep in sleep; 
And when thy dreams to heaven take thee, 

O my love, my dove, 
Thy dreams of heaven can never make thee 

More lovely or more fair. 
So when I've sung my evening lay, 
I'll take my harp and go my way. 

Repeat — 

Bath Eva 

I hear thy words, 
Thy mind is filled with follies. 

The hope of thy heart has deceived thee again and again. 
My father hath planned, and my brother. 
I shall exalt our house among the families of the great. 
Princes have sued for my hand. Nobles bow down at our 

gates. 
My father shall choose among many. 
The treasures of kingdoms are uncovered before me. 
The splendors of many lands are laid before mine eyes. 

Bar Ish 

But one moment, O fairest among the beautiful. 
Thy father shall not choose, nor thy brother; 
For thou hast already chosen. 
It will be according to my words, — and thine. 



Shouldst thou hearken to thy father's wishes 
Or serve unto thy brother's ambitions, 
Thy husband would be of the sons of the haughty, 
Adapted to sloth, and to be delighted. 
Accustomed to be obeyed. 
Impatient with them who refuse; 
Intolerant of uplifted eyes. 
His will would be thy guide, — 
His lightest whim thy law. 
His servants would watch over thee. 
And but litde wouldst thou exceed them in his eyes. 
Thou woudst build thy house at the price of thy joy, 
And thy own heart would loose its compensation. 
These are the manners of nobles, and sons of kings, 
Begining to pracdce their lessons in tyranny. 

Bath Eva 

wisdom, where is thy beard? 

Bar Ish 

Wisdom dwelleth not only behind the beards of sages. 
The straight way is clear to the eye of effection. 
As the rain descendeth and the sun shineth downward. 
So the quick heart of love finds passage to his purpose. 
Thou canst smile and decide. 

But the wisdom in thy heart approves the words I have spoken. 
That wisdom has guided the choice thou hast made. 

Bath Eva 
Thou art wiser than the magi. 

Bar Ish 

1 see thy suitors come. 
They come from broad lands. 



Their horses are 'dight with adamant and gold; 

Bells of silver vibrate at the borders of their trappings. 

Their chariots sparkle with amethyst. 

They are paved with mosaic of onyx and saphire. 

They bring letters from monarchs and kings, 

They are attended by servants of noble name. 

They bow down at the gates of thy father, 

They bring presents to the chambers of thy mother. 

The treasures of kingdoms are spread before thee. 

I see them depart. 
Their gifts are thrown as a heap 
In the bottom of their chariots. 

Their faces are black with the wrath of their astonishment. 
The gestures of their hands threaten backwards 
Towards the bars of thy windows that mock them. 

Then I say to my heart, 'Lift up thy heart'. 
And the heart of my heart is lifted up. 



Another Evening 

Bath Eva 

Have not I dismissed thee from our walls, 
Have not I warned from among our trees? 

My brother hath discovered thy coming. 
He waits for thee among the trees of our grove. 
With a dagger he waits behind the shrubs, 
R,age is in his heart, his hand is on the weapon. 
Why wilt thou drench our soil with thy blood? 
Why besprinkle our leaves with thy life? 
Thy coming has brought disfavor upon me. 
And thy life to the border of destruction. 
Be admonished in season and depart. 
I will bless at thy going, so thou come not again. 



Bar hh 

Should I go at the voice of thy warning 
Thou thyself wouldst hiss at the turning of my back. 
Thou wouldst say, "He too, is made of clay, 
Too little the fire of God's breath inspires his dust". 
Thou wouldst go to thy pillow in anger 
And be shamed at the looks of thy maids. 
Thou wouldst hide from the eyes of thy friends 
And doubt the courage of men. 
The mother who bore me would be the object of thy pity. 

Now thou dost listen for him who dares to come. 
Should I turn my back at thy brother's threatening 
Thou would's sleep to dream of hares and the deer. 

I will seek thy brother and ask him the way he takes 
To prevail when he visits the daughters of princes. 

Bath Eva 
Ah me ! 

Bar hh 
Thou hast spoken a word from thy heart. 

Brother, flashing the dagger 

Bath Eva 
Ah, Ah, I see the dagger! 

Brother 

I have thee now at last. 
Come thou with me, 
The deed needs not too many eyes. 
Seest thou this toy ? 
It's heft shall press thy breast. 
It's blade shall cool the pride 
That fills the tumid cavities about thy heart. 



Bar Ish 

I see the plaything, — and have seen it many times. 
'Twas hardened at my forge, 
In waters colder than the Pharpar 
Flowing through Damascus, 
Thawed from the snows of Lebanon. 
Five days did my hammer compact it's steel 
Until its trenchant point can penetrate 
Through mail of threefold linked brass. 
And in it's hilt I set the jewels 
Which outstar the stars. 

Brother 

Thou hast provided for thy passage to thy ancestors. 
Cease parley and swift prayers that thy poor soul 
May find the journey clear to that dull paradise 
To which ignoble birth hath destined thee. 

Bar Ish 

Thy father, I have heard, hath gained possession 
Of broad lands on earth. 

Hath he obtained foreclosure too, of all the seats in heaven? 
And hath he set thee in the place of God 
To portion out the place to them who humbly pray? 

Brother 
Dost thou employ the remnant of thy breath to mock me? 

Bar Ish 

It is appointed unto men to die. 
And this decree of God I would not chide. 
Else monsters would inhabit this fair world forever. 



Brother 

Stay thou. 
What is thy name, that I may send thy mother word 
Why thou art delayed so long. 

Ish Bar Ish 

My name is Ish Bar Ish, son of the armourer, 
And my apprenticeship was at his anvil. 
But since my father's passage into rest 
I have changed the trade, 

And now the implements with which men strove 
In mortal combat, life for life, 
To serve the claims of kings. 
Sharpened no longer at my fire, lie rusting. 
Instead of them the peaceful tools of toil are honored. 

I have invented the revolving wheel 
Which lifts the fertile waters from the deep morass, 
Pouring them over desert lands, 
Making them smile with figs and vines and grain 
In places where the slender crane, 
Descending on his crooked wings, 
Slumped to his feathers in the ooze. 
The quaking bog is changed to solid ground 
Fit for the plough, and tread of heavy cattle. 

But I must hasten while thy impatient dagger 
Delays it's work. 

It is permitted unto men to die, 
Else life's hard burden might forever press the poor. 
And grief and loss might be perpetual. 

It is a custom older than the law 
That those who die may send a message 
To those they leave behind them in the world. 
As thou alone art present, I speak my words 



And send my message and my blessing 
By thy faithful memory. 
So sheathe thy weapon for a little space, 
I shall not flee away. 

They who too hotly threaten evil bespeak themselves. 
Thy hard words are harder than thy heart. 

And when thou wentest forth to win thy choice 
Among the daughters of the mighty, 
How came the victory, where others sued in vain ? 
Half the fight was won when thou thyself didst love. 
With half the batde thine thy heart was bold 
To go where princes stood irresolute. 
Ambition's virtues rising high within thee 
Gave thee dignity to seek above thy birth, 
For something higher than ancestral wealth. 
Thou wouldst have titles, provinces, viceroyalties, 
And thy descendants be the heirs of thrones. 
These thou hast well in prospect now. 

Won by love's own courage where princes have departed in 
astonishment. 

These are the words to thee from one 
Who soon shall walk the shadowy road 
That leads to where the judgement sits. 

And when thou goest to thy sister, tell her from me 
That he who won her heart was not afraid. 
And when thou lookest on her disheveled hair, 
Wet with the deluge of her tears 
Be pitiful as to a mourner. 
E'en now I hear her voice as if she were a widow. 



Brother 



Thou has said enough. 
Thou shalt see my father. 



Come thou with me. 

Father, I have brought the man to thee. 

Father 

Loaned I not to thee the precious dagger 
That thou mightest satisfy thy rage ? 
And thou hast brought the work to me. 

Brother 

He looks and speaks most wondrously. 

Father 
Give thou the jeweled baffdle unto me. 

To Bar Isli 

Now look on me and speak if thou dost dare. 

Bar Ish 

Most willingly I improve the space of time 
Which thy forbearance grants me. 

Thou once didst labor for a man 
With wealth piled up above the highest hope. 
Thou wast a servant of his camels and his wares. 
Thou didst see his daughter, a vision and an inspiration, 
Then life began for thee; 
Labor was joy, care a pleasure unto thee. 
Thou didst begin to see and seize advantage. 
(Love's hands are strong. Love's eyes can see afar.) 
And thou didst win him gain, and rise among his servants. 
To the place of honor and of trust. 
By the strong alchemy of love's endeavor 
Thou didst transmute his silver into gold. 
Thou didst find market for his wares 



In cities far and strange, 

Didst pioneer new passes 

Over mountains steep with everlasting ice, — 

New roads across the horizontal deserts faint with thirst. 

And when his caravans hastened to outgo the desert robbers 

They did but bring their burdens sooner home. 

And when his ships, dispatched by thy hand, 

Were driven by tempests 

It did but hasten their arrival at his ports. 

For God was on the oceans and the deserts 

Working the wishes of thy heart. 

God loveth lovers as He Himself is love. 

And when the envious merchantmen 
Conspired their plans to ruin him, 
Thy anxious ear caught the first whisper of the plot. 
And thy quick action changed the danger into gain. 

Then thou didst speak the word 
Which day by day was growing larger in thy heart. 
His answer proved him generous and just. 
His daughter now adorns thy house with matchless dignity. 
In thy hands are his possessions; and clothed with honor 
He sitteth with the elders in the gate. 
And all his words have gravity of golden emphasis. 

Thy memory is good. Thy heart is just. 

Father 

Balzan, take this man in 
And let him stand before the mistress of this house. 

Balzan 
Thy husband sendeth this man unto thee. 

Mother 
Art thou the wretch who with silly jingle 



And with boastful words at night 

Hast so beguiled our daughter's ears to listen and her eyes to 

gaze 
That when the princes came and laid dominions at her feet 
Her eyes were turned away, her feet despurned her opportunity? 

Bar Ish 
I bow myself in thy presence. 

Mother 
Balzan, go call the Kenite. 

Kcuite 
Here I am. 

Mother (Sotto voce) 

Speak in the gibbensh of thy mountains. 
The less he hears, the easier thy work. 
Take this fellow down through the dark passage way, 
And when that trinket at thy girdle 
Hath finished playing with his liver 
Feed him to the dogs of the outside night. 

Kenite 

This trifle at my girth hath felt the vitals 
Of many a sneeking scoundrel, and vultures had their feast. 
But this man hath an eye to daunt a lion, 
And when I look upon his hands 
I see beneath the forge's grime 
The ridges of such sinews as make my bones to tremble. 

Mother 

What hast thou to do with trembling? 
I took thee, fiercer than they, 



From hunting panthers on thy native hills — 
But I have pampered thee with wheat and silk 
Until thou thinkest of thy life. 
And thou hast looked upon my maids — 

Kenite 

No maid of thine shall ever say 
The Kenite shied at his work because of fear. 

Mother 

Now speakest thou a man once more. 
Go now, and may the god of vengeance speed thy work. 

Kenite 

I hunted on my native hills, 
But when I followed thee to this thy lair — 

Mother 

Silence, and to the work I bid thee. 



Scene— Bar Ish Returning 

Mother 

What! Hast thou returned unharmed? 
How went the fray? Where is the Kenite? 

Bar Ish 

Fray? There was no fray. 
Before the darkness could disguise his attitude 
My arms encircling bore him down the passage way 
And gave him vision of the outside night. 



And if I rightly judge, ashamed to see thy face, 
His purpose baffled and his work unfinished, 
He hies away back to his mountain home. 
I think the thought because I heard as hands were kissed. 
And soft adieus were said to windows just above. 
I guess by now the pillows of a maid 
Are being moistened with her tears in silence of her chamber. 

Well may she weep for man so brave and strong. 
He struggled well and made no words. 
Though he expected only death, 
I know his courage. I have seen the man before. 
He had his lances mended at my father's fire. 
They had been twisted in the lion's jaws. 

E'er long that maid of thine will follow him. 
She will leave the work of hanging curtains of silk 
In thy soft chambers; 

And at the door of some far mountain cabin 
Her uplifted hands shall bless him as he goes; 
And her fond heart, anxious to God, 
Shall follow him as he goes into the lion's lair, 
Or snatches the whelps of leopards from their dens. 

Mother 

And thou hast come from him unhurt? 
Thou art the first who e'er escaped his dagger. 

Bar Ish 

I am the first who ever loved thy daughter. 

Love goeth forth from God, sent on His divine behest. 
Sometimes conspiring stars promote the errand. 
Sometimes the envious earth conceals a thousand dangers; 
And cruel hands beset the path with pitfalls, 
Weaving the way across with thorns and stings. 

Now would I say a word to thee in simple speech. 



Thou dost love thy daughter much, 

Too much to calmly look on her distress. 

Thy daughter loveth me. 

This I know too well to hear a contradiction. 

To thwart her love will break her heart, 

And blast the promise of her life. 

And doth thy daughter now inherit such a world of wealth 

That she must be deprived of life's best boon,— 

Her heart's free choice? 

For gold and diadems must the long hunger of her soul 

Forever go unsatisfied, starved to the grave, 

Till every hope shall dwindle to despair? 

To save her life from such a dire calamity 
I enter into dangers such as now surround me. 
Pleading for her joy for all the time to come. 

Now that I speak of love and life 
The thing I have to say is well begun. 

Thou once didst love. 
And loving once hath loved till now. 
For only love could kindle eyes like thine. 
Only a true and faithful heart 
Could preserve the beauty of thy youth. 

Thy husband, once a bashful boy, 
Untied the burdens from the camels 
Before thy father's warehouse doors. 
It happened on a day thine eyes met his, — 
Small need of words to tell the story out, — 
How by affection's quickened wit and strong endeavor 
He wrought his way into thy father's favour. 
Became the trusted leader of his enterprise. 
To demonstrate the wisdom of thy father's plans. 
Small need of words to remind thee how bold he was 
When he escorted thee across the desert. 
Defending thee and thine against the robbers; 



And how they brought him to thy tent, 

Sore wounded in the fight; 

And all thy heart of pity and of love 

Went forth to staunch his blood. 

Thy watchful eye, the vision of thy presence, 

Thy yearning for his life restored his strength again, 

Thy inmost heart, and all thy thoughts were given to him. 

And when the courtly suit of rank and power 

Came bowing at thy feet, expecting easy conquest. 

Thou didst dismiss them in astonishment. 

And when he, thy father's servant 

Asked thy father for thy hand. 

Thy soul was in the question, * 

Thy joy was in the answer. 

And at the wedding feast the guests could say, 

'The man is strong and wise, the woman beautiful'. 

The beauty that they praised then has over-lived the years. 

Now I behold whence came the soul of beauty 

Which in thy daughter holds my heart enthralled. 

Mother 
Balzan, call hither Tirza. 

Tirza 
Here I am. 

Mother 
Make haste and let my daughter stand before my eyes. 

Scene 

Bath Eva, not seeing Bar Ish standing aside 

O my mother, what have they done? 
Where have they spread upon the ground 



The crimson of his blood? 

Show me the place and I will spread 

The choicest robe of purple o'er his corpse 

And sitting down beside, I'll watch away the hours. 

My tears shall wet the soil with bitter salt, 

My voice of grief shall scare away the creatures of the night. 

And on my locks cold stars distil their dews. 

When day shall rise, I'll choose the choicest place 
In all my garden ground 
Where roses shed their bloom. 
Where balsams weep their balm. 
And stooping willows spread their shade of grief; 
There deep I'll delve a place. 
And on a bed of lilies lay him down. 
And I will walk among my flowers 
And gaze upon that sacred place 
Till age shall dim the eyes that once were bright. 

O my mother, what have they done ? 
Where is his body ? 

Mother, pointifig to Bar hh 
My daughter, there it is. 

Bath Eva 
O ! O ! And yet alive ? 

Bar hh 
The pitying hand of God hath given me back to thee. 

Mother 

My hand and heart hath given thee freely up to him. 
And dost thou give to him thy troth ? 



Bath Eva 
All my troth and all my heart. 

Mother, to Bar Ish 



And thou? 
And I. 



Bar Ish 



Mother, to Balzan and Tirza 

Send for his mother. Wake all the house. 
Spread out the choicest of our store, 
And let the feast be large, 
Until the day shall smile again. 
Then let our steward visit all the gates, 
And there in hearing of the elders 
Let him announce 



Our Daughter is Betrothed 



To My Mother -in- Law 






Mrs. Ruth Humphrey 



On Her Ninetieth Birthday 

Amidst thy sorrows which have need of tears, 
Thou hast bestowed thy generous tears on us; 
And through a score of painful borrowed years 
Thy heart has answered to these earthly ties, — 
Though blessed hands have beckoned from the skies 
Thou still hast stayed with us away from Paradise. 

Till God shall call thee to a welcome home, 
So stay with us for many years to come. 



-TV. P. Barlow, 1905 



Song of Four-Score Years 

Ten years ago I finished out my three-score years and ten; — 

That is the term of life the Book allows to men: 

And from eternity, so near to me, I've borrowed ten. 

The interest Time has charged me on those years, 

A hard per cent of griefs, and pains, and tears. 

The profits I have made upon that golden loan — 

The little handfuls gathered where my hands have sown, 

The greetings, glad and genial smiles I've won. 

My four-score years of life I finish out today; 
And wonder at the swarthy reaper's long delay. 
And I am warned, as I begin another morrow. 
On harder terms my vital breath I now must borrow. 

As in the crimson west my swiftly sinking sun 
Warns me that life's short day will soon be done, 
Fain would I linger pleased on earth to stay. 
As children linger loth to leave their evening play. 
And from eternity that hath so large a store 
Of life, I stay and borrow yet a little more. 

I am content to see the morning rise again, 

To see the sun, or feel the wind, or hear the roaring rain, 

To win another smile, and feel the pleasure of another pain. 

— A^. P. Barlow, 80th Anniversary, Oct. 2Sth, 1914 



Abner Barlow, of Leslie^ Michigan 

Eighty Years Old, January 10, 1916 

The life of the forest deep and old 
It's summer heat and winter cold, 
The thundering crash of it's falling tree, 
That was the life, the life for thee. 

The life of the farm, it's fleecy sheep. 
It's oxen strong, it's furrows deep. 
It's scorching drought, it's dashing rain, 
It's ardent suns, it's golden grain. 

The life of the manhood, strong and tall, 
The life of school and college hall. 
Ambition's beacons brightly burn, 
Betimes to teach, betimes to learn. 

The life of the country's armies brave, 
To save the nation, free the slave. 
On transport ships, or ocean shore, 
In camp and march and battle's roar. 

Thy peaceful life of home, alternate work and rest, 
With good reward thy labor now is blest. 
The skillful hands dismiss the lifelong task. 
And soul and spirit for a respite ask. 

Thy four-score years have seen each duty done. 
Thy work accomplished, thy achievements won. 
And hope looks onward to the coming years. 
Dismissing cares, and undismayed by fears. 

Thy steadfast feet shall tread the shining way, 

That leads thee onward to the endless day. 

And He shall guide, whose wisdom cannot err. 

And he who follows hath no cause to fear. 

—TV. P. B. 



sparrow's Nest 

Written on finding a sparrow's nest within a handbreadth of the wagon track where 
a whole harvest had been brought from the field. — July /SS4. 

poor defenceless bird that buildest on the ground thy nest, 
Unmindful that the passing wain pres't with the harvest load 

Would grind the sod so near the nestlings of thy breast, 
Thy trusting heart of hearts is stayed upon the heart of God. 

1 ought to trust the same Divine appointment to provide; — 

For all the dangers that I dread are God's own harvest passing by; 

And while my heart is trembling for the loved ones by my side 
The faithful heart of God is bending downward from the sky. 

These storms are but the wind and dust of his careering wheels. 
And though the earth may tremble deep, the solid heavens shall stand, 

And though my eyes are dazed and dim, my heart of heart still feels, 
"My Heavenly Father feedeth them"and "holdeth in his hand' '. 



Soul 

When I behold the starry sky 
And blazing meteors passing by 
I know the stars are wondrous high 
And meteors far; but God is nigh. 

And when I see the sun and moon 
To shine at midnight and at noon, 
I know they both are passing soon 
But God remains and so does doom. 

O soul of mine, O soul of mine. 

The sun and moon may cease to shine, 

But all eternity is thine. 

And all eternity is thine, is thine, 

— Elgin, Oregon, September 1910 



Flame 

A potter sat and pottered in his clay, 
And from his wheel there came a pitcher 
Adapted to the shoulder of a slave; 
And that it might endure the stress of use, 
He passed a flame around it's outward form. 

Of the same dust another potter pottered out 
The shape and pattern of our ancestors, — 
Thine and mine, thine and mine; 
And that it might endure eternal stress 
-Filled it within with an intenser flame. 



-1901-3 



Life 

Life could not wait, because it came from God. 
He made it self-secured and self-preserving, 
Providing for its own reinteration. 
It prophesies its own immo^lity. 

When life begins all things rejoice and leap; 

When life is threatened, they listen, peer, and fend; 

When it is attacked, they struggle, scream, and fight. 

And when they die, they hide; ashamed, defeated, and disgraced. 

And by these arguments, created into nature, 
God demonstrates his goodness, wisdom, joy; 
Beholding these reasons also in himself, 
Man demonstrates his immorality. 



The Conqueror 

'Be Fruitful and mulliply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it' 

On comes the Conqueror, 

All shall be subdued, 

Paths 'neath the billows, 

Rocks and sands from harbor mouths; 

Oceans united for the pass' of ships 

Deep laden from afar. 

Rivers from their courses turned 

To wet the desert into green. 

He tells the torrent what to do 

And to the lightning speaks his will, 

Skies cold and thin shall bear the voyager. 

Vapors shall lift the wealth untold 

From underneath the mountains, 

And every wave that smites a shore 

Shall help enrich the people. 

On comes the conqueror. 



Allegory— Life and Death 

Life 

There are parts of the ocean 
Where winds drive the storms 
To headlands of awful despair, 
And the ships of the merchant, 
Bereft of their forms, 
Dismantled and sinking are there. 

The eyes of the floating 

Are raised o'er the rime 

To the pitiless heavens above, 

And the hands of the sinking 

Are fighting the brine 

As they yearn for the ones whom they love. 

And foam strangled voices 
Scream into the night 
Beseeching the mercy denied, 
And the breath of the drowning 
Is taking it's flight 
Up, up through the merciless tide. 

Death 

There's a part of the ocean 
Where darkness is dark. 
There's the pennon and anchor 
Of many a bark. 

There are treasures far-gathered 
And precious as hope. 
The billows shall never 
Surrender them up. 



To the depths of the ocean 
The winds cannot come, 
The storms and commotion 
Forever are dumb. 

And short the strife, 
And long the rest; 
And such is life. 
And death is blest,. 



Ambition 

Success awaits thee. 

Thou who upward strivest. 

Toil o'er the barrier; 
Above thee is the brim. 

Th' abyss is nearer 
By each painful step. 

The edge is narrow. 
Beneath it yawns the crater. 

Onward forever. 
There is no retreat. 



Elgin, Oregon, April 9, 1915 



Lines Composed by 




Miss Lizzie Humphrey 

AFTERWARD MrS. N. P. BaRLOW 



Suggested by a question asked by her little neice, Alice Palmer, 
about her baby sister 



Mamma, why is sister lying 
In the cold so still and white, 

Can't you take her up and warm her, 
Can't you bring her to the light? 

Thus the little child did question 
One whose heart was torn with grief, 

O, how gladly would she clasped her 
To her heart in wild relief. 



But she dare not, still and lifeless 
Lay the little sleeper there; 

O so tiny, pure and guiless, 
O, the babe was passing fair, 

The little dimpled hands were folded 
Nevermore to be unclasped, 

And the waxen baby features 
Rested in death's iron grasp. 

And the angels softly lingered 
O'er the little marble form. 

Sheltered safe from earth's rude tempests, 

In the land that knows no storm. 

— About 1S67 

She Loves Us with Her Hands 

In grateful notice to my wife's industry; written while she was alive 

Her hands are rough with toil 

On our rough clothes 
And sometimes grimed with soil 

While she bestows 
Her care, by midnight oil 

To make or mend 
Our bodies from the wind's turmoil 

To well defend. 

She loves us with her hands. 

With stroke of dire paralysis 

Her hands are weak; 
And prickly pains and twinges 

Through them streak. 
But though the joints like rusty hinges 

With torture creak, 
Their work of love nor flags nor flinches; 

Though they should break 

She loves us with her hands. 



Phoebe's Eggs 

There's a Phoebe's nest under every bridge, 
There's a nest there, never fear; 

You'll see the eggs if you wade in deep. 
At the proper time of year. 

In under the bridge I looked and looked, 
But I couldn't see them at all, 

For the log of a stringer was very big, 
And the Phoebe's nest was small. 

So I rolled my breeches legs up 

Clear up to my lanky thighs, 
And I waded into the rip'ling stream 

That mirrored back the skies. 

But under the bridge the stream was deep, 

So I let my breeches go. 
And up to my arms I waded in, 

I wanted to see them so. 

But coming home so late from school. 
My mother asked where I'd been. 

And on my face across her knee 
I took my punishment then. 

I took my punishment then and there, 

Across my poor little legs, 
I went to bed but I did'nt care, 

I'd seen the Phoebe's eggs. 

But when I came after seventy years, 
The water was swift and cold; 

I lifted the plank to see the nest 
For my legs were feeble and old. 



A bridge of steel had spanned the stream, 
The school was changed for a mill, 

The things were near that seemed so far. 
And gone was the house from the hill. 

But there on a flange of a beam of steel 
Was the nest of the Phoebe grey. 

But old and wrecked it seemed to be, 
For the birds had flown away. 

Though cold as water cold could be, 
I'd wade there up to my chin. 

To get a sight of the Phoebe's eggs. 
And get that lickin' agin. 



-A^. P. B.,July 1911 



Blank Leaf 

On a blank leaf found in a hook belonging to Verona Coe, poet of the Alumnae 
of Kalamazoo College 1S62-5. Written while in college 

O Blank Leaf, Blank Leaf, 

Thou mightest have been a sheaf 

Laden with golden grain of thought. 

With beauty, feeling, force, and fancy fraught. 

O leaf all blank, all blank, 
Of her quick pen thou mightest have drank 
Some straying stream of wild, unfrettered song. 
Pouring it's mingled music all along. 

Blank Leaf, Blank Leaf, Oh 

That thou instead of this shouldst go 

Back to the glances of her eye again. 

All blurred and blotted by my clumsy pen. 



On Seeing a Cricket Killed by a Black Wasp 

I heard a cricket tune his lay, 

He heard another o'er the way, 

And venturing from his open door 

He skipped and sung as ne'er before, 

And all unconscious of his fate 

He thought to reach his neighbor's gate. 

But flaming down the summer's breath 
There came a glittering form of death, 
And swift and strong a dreadful thing 
With courage strong and flashing wing 
He pounced upon our gallant there 
And turned his mirth to black dispair. 

For clutching with his horrid claws 
And gripping with his horrid jaws. 
And shadowing with his steel-blue wing 
He thrust his dark envenomed sting. 
With practiced and unerring art 
Deep to his palpitating heart. 

O fierce and unrelenting foe ! 

O death of wild and bitter woe ! 

O agony of poison pain ! 

O innocent untimely slain ! 

How soon has ceased thy cheerful lay, 

By such a monster dragged away ! 

And while I meditate the parable profound. 
Writ in the weltering sea and over all the ground, 
In every leafy tree and in the vital air 
The rush of triumph brings a black despair. 
One creature's triumph is another's woe. 
And all the verdant earth is framed so; — 



It fills with dizzy puzzles all my brain 
And thrills my deepest heart with pity's pain. 
But while these puzzles did my thoughts amaze 
And while I studied on Creation's ways 
A voice within me moved by faith to say, 
Calmly the great Creator takes His way. 
The mind that can through every riddle see 
Has planned the plan alike for them and me, 
Who formed thy heart to yearn with pity's smart 
Hath greater pity in his greater heart. 



-August 17, 1901 



Faith 



Faith Cometh with credentials in her hands, 
She Cometh tripingly with smiles. 

And as she cometh ever onward, 

Chaunteth and singeth all the whiles. 



-Greenville, 1916 



Earth's Dawn 

Six thousand years, six thousand years 

The earth has rolled, and rolled, and rolled. 

And yet her morn but just appears. 

And tints the eastern dome with gold; 

The morning stars together sing, 

"Earth is in her blossoming." 



—Hadley 1870 




^40 



Harvest Song 



Blow gently breezes, blow 

Over the harvest field. 
Freshen the reapers' brow. 

Ripen the golden yield. 

Shine ardent sunbeams, shine 

Over the harvest field, 
Season the sheaves we bind, 

Ripen the golden yield. 

Stay dashing showers away, 

Till bick'ring wains shall come. 

All through the sunny day, 
To bring the harvest home. 



Smyrna, Mich., August J 879 



Winds and Waves 

I will sing you a song because I am sad, 
And my heart is distrest for my love, 

He is borne by the waves as they welter beneath 
And the winds as they baffle above. 

The winds and the waves of the sea. 

I will sing you a song because I am glad. 

My heart is expecting my love, 
By waves underneath and the tempests above 

He is coming to home and to me. 

The winds and the waves of the sea. 

I will sing you a song because I am glad, 

O thanks to the great God above. 
For the winds and the billows that wafted him home. 

That hastened and landed my love. 

The billows that landed my love, 



A Morning Dream 

Our hearts seem to tell the same pulses, 

Our breath comes again and again, 
But onward we move with the moments. 

And sigh with a different pain. 

We think we repeat the song over 

And sing the same stanzas again, 
But the joy is a new one forever. 

The strain is a different strain. 

We part from our friends in the morning. 

We pass with a varying pace. 
We meet at the shade of the evening. 

But meet at a different place. —Chicago, March 1887 



My Choice 

There's a shore where waves are beating 
O'er the sands of gHttering gold, 

There's and isle where winds are wafting 
Odors and sweets untold. 

There are trees with branches bending 

With fruitage loaded low; 
There are streams of glitt'ring waters 

That swiftly to the ocean go. 

There are birds of rainbow plumage 
That sing where the flowers glow, 

And blue are the skies above them, 
And green is the earth below. 

I'm not in haste to voyage 

To those islands sweet and far, 

I choose to stay with my chosen 
Where all my pleasures are. 



Hymns 



Look, My Soul 

Come, O my soul, behold and see 
The shadows of Gethsemane, 
The Savior in his agony. 
He bore it all, my soul, for thee. 

Arise, my soul, draw near and see 
The mocking kiss of treachery, 
The foes who came, the friends who flee; 
He bore it all, my soul, for thee. 



Approach, my soul, behold and see 
The soldiers as they bow the knee, 
The reed, the robe, the mockery; 
He bore it all, my soul, for thee. 

I've seen my Savior pass along 
Amidst a fierce and vengeful throng, 
I've seen his flesh all pierced and torn 
With lash and nails, and crown of thorn. 
He bore it all for me, for me. 

I've seen the Roman guard draw near, 
I've seen him thrust the cruel spear, 
I've seen the crimson, cleansing tide 
Descending from his wounded side. 
For me, for me, for me. 



The Light 

Are you living in the light? 

Do you trust the Savior's might? 

Do you stand the cross beside, — 

Nailed hands and pierced side. 
Are they present to thy sight, 
Are you living in the light? 

Can you see the crimson flood? 
Flowing, cleansing, generous blood? 

Can you see the Savior dead. 

Glazing eye, and drooping head. 
Are they present to thy sight. 
Are you living in the light? 

Joseph, gendy draw the nail 
From the cross' rugged rail. 

And upon thy bosom bear 

Him who all thy sin did share. 
Gazing at the cross on high. 
Does it fill thy faithful eye ? — A^. P. B. 



The Burial 

Witness of the Savior's pain, 
Nicodemus join the train, 
Bear Him to the open tomb 
Myrrh and spice and sweet perfume. 
In the sunset's lingering sheen 
Can you see the solemn scene? 

Come my friend, fear not the gloom, 
Come descend into His tomb. 
Standing in that awful shade, 
See the place where Christ was laid. 
Look, my brother, see His brow. 
Marked with thorns and bruises now. 

Can you see the stone that closed 
Dark the place where Christ reposed? 
Now they set the potent seal, 
Set the guard with clang of steel; — 
Vain the guard, the sword, the mace, 
Angels too, shall guard the place. 

Resurrection Morning 

Ye women bearing spices and hastening to His tomb. 
The angel went before you, and rolled away the gloam. 

Ye have no need to wonder who will roll the stone away. 
The angel there will show you the place where Jesus lay. 

Ye have no need of spices to make a sweet perfume. 
The Lord no more abideth within the narrow tomb. 

Ye have no need to hasten before the sun shall rise. 
He walketh in the garden and makes it Paradise. 

Greenville, Mich., Aug. 10, 1916 



My Firstborn 



When Edith was born in the morning 
I took up the beautiful body, 

All bright with the soul of my baby 
And suffused with her radiant beauty, 

I bathed my own soul in the rapture 
And bowed to a sence of my duty. 

I thanked the great God who had given 
This heir of the dowry of heaven. 

But my heart was disturbed by possession, 
And I waked in the night with unrest, 

So great was the gih that was given. 

When she was born into the kingdom 
I buried her body in water, 

And I named her after the Father 
And after the Son and the Spirit 

Of the kingdom she'd come to inherit. 

As I raised her to walk in her "newness" 
Her soul was adorned with a halo, 

Irradiant, always suffusing, 
Around her the splendor and odor 

Of a life that came out of the heavens. 

When Edith departed at evening 
I dug her a grave on the hillside. 

The useless and cumbersome body 
I buried down deep in the bosom 

Of earth, and the snow fell above it. 



But her soul went away to the garden 
Where the blooming is sweet and forever, 

The song and the light and the glory 
Descends on her soul till her body 

Shall join in the glory to follow. 



Coming Home 

I turned my feet towards my home 

And walked a weary way, 
I climbed the hills and crossed the vales 

And saw the close of day. 

The village then before me lay. 

My home was just in sight; 
My little daughter out that way 

Came bounding, free and light. 

She took my hand and led me home 

And opened wide the gate, 
"You look so tired, I'm glad you've come, 

The hour is getting late". 

Her voice was restful to my heart, 
Her hands were cool and smooth; 

She led me to a place apart, 
My aching head she soothed. 

Now when I come she meets me not. 

And never will again 
Until she leads me up the path. 

My heavenly home to gain. 



-Baldwin, February 1887 



Edith was taken while I was 
away from home 

I came to the place where my daughter was laid. 
And gazed on her beauty again, 

I spoke, but to hear me she turned not her head, 
Nor moved her white hands to obey. 

I called, but she moved not, nor answered again, 
But lay with her face to the wall, 

She roused not to greet me, entreating in vain. 
Nor heeded the stress of my call. 

They told me a lover had come for her hand. 
Had won her and made her his own, 

Had born her away to the glorified land. 
Had given her a crown and a throne. 



Edith 5 Eighteenth Birthday 

She died at the age of seventeen 

O earth, how blest thou art ! 
To take her earthly part, 
Out of thy bosom she arose. 
Thy bosom takes her to repose. 

O heaven, how blest thou art ! 
To take her heavenly part, 
Down from thy courts she came, 
And to thy courts returns again. 

O mother, thou hast had her whole ! 
And thou art doubly blest. 
For both her body and her soul 
Were nourished at thy breast. 



On Receiving a Bouquet from Home 

While in Lndingtoti, Michigan 

I lifted the brilliant bouquet 
And on my poor table it shone, 

And I thought of my home far away 
Where the dasies and pansies were sown. 

I lifted the withered bouquet 
Which had lightened the heart in my breast, 

And I thought ere I cast it away 
I will choose me a few of the best. 

Then I thought of the destiny sharp. 
Which had severed me out of my home, 

And seizing the cords of my harp 
I sang them a song of my own. 

I have dreamed of your fragrance by night, 
I have breathed of your fragrance by day, 

I have thought of her beauty more bright, 
Who disposed you in pleasing array. 

Together she bound you with love. 
She has knotted my heart with the band, 

My fingers shall never remove 
Nor undo the fair work of her hand. 

Attached for a week and a day, 
Ye shall never be severed apart; 

Though exciled myself far away, 
I am nearer than ever in heart. 

The fingers that gathered these stems 
Are sweeter than pe^ls to me, 

And the eyes that selected these gems 
Are brighter than posies can be. 



Ye have come from the heart of my home, 
And find my home still in my heart; 

Though far from the threshold I roam, 
My soul and my home cannot part. 



— L/idington, September 1SS6 



To Lizzie, a Valentine 

Saint Valentine, the legends say. 
Was passing through a wood one day 
And saw, by chance, a maid and lover, 
He saw them meet and kiss each other. 

And though a man of monkish vows, 
Of all the joys of love bereft. 
He was a man of common sence. 
And blest the Lord that love was left. 

Suppose a monk should kiss a maid, 
And bless the Lord that love is left. 
And break a vow he never made. 
And make a vow he'll never break. 

Suppose that monkish lip were mine. 
Suppose yourself were treated so; 
Would you my life, my valentine. 
Deny the blessing? Answer— 



My Dream 



They think they have her over there 
And that's the way it seems, 

But in the night she steals away 
And comes to me in dreams. 

And bending down in beauty rare 
She plants a kiss on my face, 

But though her eyes are bright with smiles, 
She leaves a tear in the place. 

The kiss she brings from over there 
That is farther than over the sea, 

But I am still in this earthly world 
And she leaves the tear for me, 



—Ani^ust 20, 1908 



Juvenile Jingles 



Nursery Song 

I heard a little bird today 

And he said "Peety Weet". 

Because he hadn't any shoes 
Or stockings to his feet. 

His mamma went a long way oft' 
To find him crumbs to eat, 

And all that little bird could say 
Was, "Peety weet, weet". 

His nesting place was high and cold 

Upon a windy street, 
And when the storm came roaring by 

That bird said, "Peety weet". 

The blessed Lord heard what he said 
And gave him food to eat. 

And now that little birdie sings 
His song of "Peety weet". 

And God who cares for all the birds 
Receives the praises sweet, 

And listens to the thankful song 
When birds sing "Peety weet". 



-Lridin'^toii, November ISS6 



Shephard Boy 

The grass is sweet 
Beneath our feet, 

The sky is blue above. 
The brook is near, 
I have no fear; 

My sheep and himbs I love. 

My fleecy sheep 
Lie down to sleep 

Within a shady dell, 
And one and all 
They know my call; 

My lambs they love me well. 



Nature Jingles 



Buzz 

Buzz buzz, beetle bug, 
Buzz while you can; 
Buzz buzz, beetle bug, 
Buzz, my little man 

Once you were a beetle grub 
Grubbing dirt and clay. 
Now you are a beetle bug. 
Buzzing night and day. 

Once you were a baby boy, 
You my little man. 
Now you're big enough to buzz; 
Keep buzzing while you can. 



Sluggard 

This fellow is so soft and wet 
I'm sure he's not a bug; 
He has no wings to fly or buzz 

I'm sure he's not a bug. 

This fellow is so soft and wet 
We'll call his name the slug, 

He is so slow to crawl along 
We'll call his name the slug. 

In long ago he had a shell 
He carried on his back, 

But very soon he lazy grew. 
He thought it hard to pack. 



And always as he dragged it round 
He wished the thing was off, 

So bye and bye he turned around 
And bit the burden off. 

But if you don't believe my rhyme 
Look on the creature's back, 

And there you'll see the scar that's left 
Upon the creature's back. 

His ease has cost him so much pain 
And he is such a muggard, 

I think for him the proper name 
Is just the name of sluggard. 



Chipmuck Luck 

My hole is deep i' the hard, hard ground. 
Safe from wolf and safe from hound; 
Nuts I took from the old oak tree, 
Shells are brown, and nuts for me. 

Deep i' the ground I stored them down 
Safe from the mouse and golpher brown. 
Safe from water and safe from snow, 
Chip chip, citter chooter, down I go. 

There I'll sleep all safe and deep, 
The fox I'll cheat and nuts I'll eat. 
Winter done, I'll wake and sing 
Chick chuck chock I'll flip and fling. 

Chick chock chuck, chipmuck luck, 
I'll dig for feed and work for luck. 
Nut and acorn, acorn nut. 
Chipmuck luck, chuck, chuck, chuck. 



Snake and Chipmuck 



Says the chipmuck to the garter snake, 
You're a curious kind of beast, 
You haven't any legs at all. 
You haven't any feet. 

The garter to the chipmuck says, 
You are a timid guy, 
I have no legs to run away 
But I look a man in the eye. 



Snake and Woodchuck 



Says the woodchuck to the blacksnake 
You've no hands to dig a hole, 
You have no feet to run away. 
You look like a crooked pole. 

Says the blacksnake to the woodchuck, 

I have no wings to fly, 

I have no feet to run away 

But I look a man in the eye. 

You have strong hands for digging 
And bigger teeth than I, 
But I've a heart of courage bold, 
I can look a man in the eye. 



Snake and Bird 

Says the bluejay to the racer blue, 
I've often wondered why 

So long a body you should have 
Without a wing to fly. 

The racer to the bluejay says 
I'll tell the reason why, 

I have no need to fly away, 
I can look a man in the eye. 

Snake and Man 

Don't kill the snake my little man, 

He does not want to die; 
There's courage in his heart enough 

To look a man in the eye. 

Owl's Co n ven tio n 

The owl's a very social bird. 
And loves his brother owlets; 

But he is not designed to live 
Like many other fowlets. 

Sometimes a flying squirrel nice 
He bring into his larder; 

But mostly has to live on mice, 
And work so much the harder. 

Sometimes he sees a little bird 
That hasn't gone to roost yet. 

And thinks he has a perfect right 
To settle down and boost it. 

And when he looks upon the snow 
And sees a little rabbit. 

He spreads his downy wings abroad 
To hurry down and grab it. 



But they must live so far apart, 
It's hard the news to carry, 

'Bout who's a going to be engaged. 
And who's a going to marry. 

So when they've waited for a while 
And haven't heard the latest. 

They come to gossip and to smile 
Like gentlemen and ladies. 

And one he starts a merry screech 
And ends it with a hooter, 

And makes it sound for all the world 
Just like a base ball rooter. 

And then an owlet from afar 
Another answers nearer, 

Another answers miles away 
And you can hardly hear her. 

They snap their bills and flap their wings 
And gathering together. 

Some of them talk of other things, 
And some discuss the weather. 

They say, "Ahoo, ahoo, hah hoooo, 
Hoh hah, hoh huh, hoh hoow wwor, 

Huh hoh hoh hoh, ho hih hah hoh, 
There'll be a fine new moon soooor". 

And when they've had a social time 
And nodded to each other, 

They spread their wings and bow again, 
And each flies to his cover. 

In some great oak or maple tree 
Where he has found a hollow, 

Each owl is snugly stowed away, 
The sunshine soon will follow. 



''Old Stamper'' 

When we lived over in York State, 
We lived in a house of wood, 

With gable end to the westward 
That little mansion stood. 

Two bedrooms on the north side. 
That litde mansion had; 

And on the east the chimney wide. 
With oven deep and glad. 

And on the south side of the house 
There was the cellar stair. 

Which led down to the darkness cool. 
We kept our taters there. 

On that same side the stairway 
Led to the chamber floor, 

Where father kept the bin of corn, 
It was our winter store. 

And sometimes in the daytime, 
And sometimes in the night 

We heard a curious, thumping noise 
That filled us with delight. 

It sounded like a half grown boy 
Who skipped about the floor. 

Who thumped and bumped and bumped again. 
And then he'd thump some more. 

But when we went to look for him. 
Went creeping up the stair. 

He always vanished out of sight, 
We never found him there. 



And when we went down stairs again, 
And all the house was still, 

We'd hear him tramping over head 
And tramping with a will. 

We wondered how he lived up there 
And what he had to eat, 

Or how he slept without a bed 
And how he shod his feet. 

We wondered why he kept himself 
So very, very sly. 

And ne'er came down to visit us, 
Down from that chamber high. 

He made a noise and tramped around 
And he was such a romper. 

Because we knew no better name 
We called his name "Old Stomper". 

And when we moved away from there 
And came to Michigan, 

We thought we'd left him far behind. 
That little "Stomper" man. 

We built our house of logs and shakes 
And laid our chamber floor, 

We built our fire against the logs, 
And hung the outside door. 

Though half a thousand miles we'd come, 
Into another state, 

"Old Stomper" he was here again. 
He followed us like fate. 

And over half a thousand miles. 
And over land and lake, 

He'd followed us to Michigan 
For old acquaintance sake. 



And now we found who Stomper was 
And how he made his noise, 

For we were sent to sleep up stairs, 
We lucky, lucky boys. 

For in the early morning light 
While morning still was dim. 

We raised our heads up from our beds 
And got a look at him. 

Two little mice came creeping out 
From where we did not know. 

And then began the scamper swift, 
And then began the show. 

For underneath the bedstead rough 
And 'neath the spinning wheel, 

O'er bootjacks and o'er boxes, too 
They bucked with toe and heel. 

They thumped and bucked with might and main, 
They bounded far and high. 

And fun was in the way they jumped, 
And mischief in their eye. 

So then we'd seen Old Stomper true. 
The mystery was out. 

Two little mice were having fun. 
And scampering about. 

'Twas mice back there in New York State, 
'Twas mice in Michigan, 

The mice live everywhere I guess, 
My little "Stomper" man. 



Dro n k ers 
Printing 
Company 
Greenville 
Michigan 



LIBRARY 0F_ CONGRESS 



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